Voice. No ... no. Oh, let me in.
Caren [bangs the door shut]. Get away.
Voice [brokenly]. Let me look once ... just once. [Caren opens the door a crack.] Are there any ... women?
Caren. Women? Of course, there's women ... always women. What is it you've craving? The sight of the beauties or the smell of their stinking flesh? Go on ... get out. This isn't a bawdy house. [He slams the door to and walks away.]
Kraig. What is it he wants?
Caren. A peep at the stiffs. Probably looking for his girl. [He passes out of sight, behind the black curtain.]
Kraig. Oh! [Cautiously he peeps after Caren, then opens the door a crack and calls in a whisper]. Man!... You can see the new ones through the panel there. Lift up the curtain. There's two. A blond haired girl and a boy. [He turns swiftly as the curtains part and Caren reënters. Softly he shuts the door, then stands watching into the hallway through a glass partition.] Poor soul!
Caren [mumbles as he returns]. There's something queer about that last young stiff.
Kraig. Number thirteen?
Caren. Yes, number thirteen. You may have been right after all. Perhaps it wasn't fair play to put him in the river. There's some mystery ... something wrong. [Tittering.] He ... he ... he! Not number thirteen for nothing.